


At Last

by hazeltea (madlovescience)



Category: Raffles series - E.W. Hornung
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlovescience/pseuds/hazeltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bunny is weary, having followed Raffles through Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mousagetes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousagetes/gifts).



I crouched behind the curio cabinet, straining my ears for the last sounds of footsteps passing by the door of the study. My nose itched terribly, and I twitched it, pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth to suppress a sneeze. Slowly, I counted to fifty, and, certain that the danger was past, slowly rose to slide open the window and let down the knotted rope.

It was madness to use the headmaster's own window to sneak out at night, but that was why Raffles used it. No one would think to look for him on this side of the house, as no boy was brazen enough to defy authority in such a bold way; no one but Raffles, and myself, the boy who blindly worshiped him. I knew that if we were caught, we would be beaten, and then expelled, upon which I would be sent home and be beaten yet again. Even so, I carried out my orders with the outward calm and diligence of a trained soldier, because Raffles had assured me that there was nothing to fear, and Raffles' word was law to me. I claimed that I didn't know why I would always swallow this lie; even as my stomach churned nervously; but of course I knew perfectly well why.

The weight on the other end of the rope eased, and the graceful form of Raffles climbed through the window in near silence. Long, practiced fingers slid the window closed gently, and tossed the rope back into my lap. "Ah, there's a good boy." He murmured, ruffling the strands of my hair affectionately before slipping off into the darkened hallway. Stupefied, I stared after the darkly handsome captain of the eleven until my heart ceased hammering, and then quietly made my way back to my own bed.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

I had grown used to one simple, uncomfortable fact- that one could never grow too comfortable in life, at least not life in the company of Raffles. At first, our periods of peace were long and prosperous, pierced by incidents which rattled and excited me both. For Raffles, they were the height of joy, the life in his noble blood. Brushing with danger, and trumping the law with his wit alone, made him shine with a glamor that I could not resist. Time and again I could have walked away, logically, but there was never logic in my situation. I was addicted to him, as he was addicted to his vices, and so, although I often begged and pleaded with him for an honest life, I stayed and assisted, so that we might be together for the bright, fortunate periods which grew shorter and dimmer as time went on.

The world was too small to hold Raffles. Petty crime was beneath him, and his ambitions rose to equal those of the professionals. Although he never told me all that was on his mind, it was impossible to not notice that the prizes became larger and more elusive, the peril reaching fever pitch to the point of where I often thought my heart would give out of sheer fright on the job.

It's odd, but when I think back on the day that we were caught, I don't remember that fear; only a dead, sickening weight in my stomach, a sense that reality had caught up with us at last; and yet, it was the most surreal day of my life. I had believed Raffles to be dead, and my mind could not accept that as reality, so surely, this was not reality, this had to be the nightmare. The dull feeling continued as I was sentenced and imprisoned, as I worked, dully aware of my surroundings and hardship. I was a model prisoner, for there was no fight left in me. The only logical course of action was to do what was demanded of me, and hope for the best. It was all I had ever done in life, and all I could hope to do, coward that I am.

When Raffles came back into my life, I felt as though I had been reborn myself. The love I felt for him eclipsed the fact that things would never be the same again. I could look past the loss of his silken, ink black hair, the weary lines on his handsome face, the fatigue in his eyes; to me, he was still as wonderful, as clever and charming as ever. It took some time for the changes in him to thoroughly dishearten me. Presumed dead, he had lost his ability to interact with the world in all but the most basic ways. Disgraced as I was, I was free where he was not. He had lost heart in his life. I could not understand why he had returned to England, of all places, when anywhere on Earth that was not Italy or London would have done quite nicely; and Raffles , true to form, would not meet my eyes and would not answer.

Once in a very great while, he would muster up the old spark, and attempt a showy crime, but for the most part, our loot was to be gold and silver that could be melted down without a trace. Never did we take paper notes, unusual jewels, or antiques which could be traced. We were doing jobs which Raffles has once considered beneath us, purely for profit and not for adventure, although we had profited quite handsomely in the early days as well. I didn't mind the decrease of risk, but it cut Raffles to the quick, and I could see the shame and discontent in his brooding eyes as he lay in his self made exile. He had dishonored himself, by his very own code.

I suppose I always knew what he meant to do by enlisting. There was nothing left for him here, and it was plain to see that he wished that he truly had died when the world believed it of him. It is true that my Raffles was a thief, a fiend, a scheming, crooked man with little remorse, but I will never let it be said that he was not a patriot and a gentleman, and not without a basic sense of justice in his heart. He meant to atone for his wrongs before dying, but I don't believe it was on account of the fate of his own soul. He never did put much stock in spiritual matters. I think, although he would never discuss it with me, that his intention was to even the scales for the sake of justice itself; not wanting to leave unfinished business before he left this life. And so, tired and determined, Raffles enlisted, and I followed. It was to be the most miserable experience of my life, outstripping prison, which you could at least be fairly sure you would live though and could count down the days to freedom. In a war, there is no end in sight, no matter how close or how far you are to victory or defeat in retrospect.

As I felt the bullet pierce my flesh, my first thought was of Raffles. I would be sent to the infirmary if I lived, which I surely would, as it was only a flesh wound. We'd be separated. Of course being beside him would not keep him safe, but that familiar dread was with me…

Raffles was by my side, talking me through the pain. I was growing dizzy, and I raised my eyes to him, piteously, wanting to tell him a dozen things, but unable to speak. The world was growing gray and flashing with bright white lights, and Raffles was still yelling over the din of the bullets. His voice rose, and was cut short, as his body jerked backwards and fell. I didn't have the strength to scream, or the air enough in my lungs to sob. For once, I knew exactly as my Raffles had felt for so long. I closed my eyes tightly, and prayed for death.

Night and day blurred together dozens of times as I lay in a cold, gray room, vaguely aware of scratchy sheets and a thin mattress filled with creaking springs beneath me. I could hear the moans of the others around me, other men who were worse off than I was. I didn't move, didn't speak, didn't eat, until prodded forcefully by a nurse. If I cooperated, I would get better. If I got better, I would live. If I lived, I would be sent back to the front lines, back to a world without Raffles. This was unacceptable. Better that they think me mentally ill, place me in an asylum where I could kill myself properly, and not spend the days and nights anticipating the next bullet which might only wound me.

Some days had passed when I woke to find a visitor beside my cot. The man was in uniform, bandaged tightly around his torso. His left arm was missing, and his entire body seemed tense with pain. My eyes traveled upwards, and I froze in shock as Raffles himself gazed tenderly down at me.

"We'll be discharged, Bunny." He said, quietly. There was a sort of demure satisfaction in his eyes, despite the horror of the situation.

"Why?" I managed, the weight of it all suddenly becoming too much. "Why did we have to do this? Any of it, blast it? What now?" I was nearing tears, for I knew that I would do anything for him, no matter how horrible it was. Experience had taught me that life only became more difficult with time, and I feared that I couldn't face the challenge.

"I'm sorry, Bunny." He mumbled, after a moment. He had never apologized before, not like this. Not with actual remorse in his voice, not without it being a roundabout way of indication that the whole disaster was somehow the result of my own actions. "You're good to me, Bunny, always too good, too loyal. I knew you'd follow me into this war, and I let you. I was selfish."

"It was right to fight for our country." I replied, knowing I spoke the truth, but also knowing that I would have avoided it at all costs if not for him.

"My darling rabbit, my dearest vice. I never could be without you for long." He sighed. "I came too close to losing you forever. It would have been my fault."

"It would have." I answered, darkly. "It's all fine and well for you to be dramatic about your regret now, but whatever you have planned next, I fear to think. I won't stand for it, Raffles, I can't, I can't live like this anymore, knowing that you're always taking such risks because you want to die, because…"

I swallowed, feeling the lump in my throat harden, not knowing what else to say.

"I think I've paid my debt." He said, softly. "A.J. Raffles is dead, Bunny, and it is a simple soldier who is going to retire to the highlands to lead an honest life, and right the other wrongs he's done, if you'd join me."

I can read my Raffles like no one else, and his eyes were sad and sincere. My own wound throbbed, and I thought of my own ruined reputation, of the simple life that could be had in a small cottage far away, with Raffles by my side. I reached out my hand, and briefly clutched his own. "Please."

He smiled then, a glimmer of his old self reaching his eyes. He stayed by my side until I fell asleep, dreaming of our snug, safe cottage miles from our past lives.

**Author's Note:**

> My recipient wanted me to spare Raffles. It felt rather nice to pardon him! Happy Yuletide! &lt;3


End file.
